The Arms of Fate
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: "Clearly, Minerva had underestimated Hermione's feelings. Clearly the young woman knew what was at stake by saying what she'd said in that letter. And as a tear fell down the older witch's cheek, she realized that clearly she'd underestimated her own feelings on the matter as well." MM/HG oneshot


**Hey people, I know I've been MIA...had a baby boy last week, and the couple weeks before that were...let's just say that my body does not approve of being pregnant. This is a "please forgive my absence" oneshot for you. A Dueling update is the next thing on my list, for those of you watching that. **

* * *

"Miss Granger?" Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, looked up from her desk to see that Hermione Granger, her star pupil, had not vacated the sixth year class with her friends. "Can I help you with something?"

"Um," the young woman said timidly, looking at the floor. "I was wondering if you'd like to get a butterbeer with me this weekend in Hogsmeade."

Minerva dropped her quill, startled. Was Hermione asking her out on a date? "I beg your pardon?"

Hermione let out a shaky breath, and then looked straight at her Transfiguration Professor. "Would you like to get a butterbeer with me this weekend?" she asked again, this time with more determination in her tone.

Minerva stared at the sixteen year old, trying to read her expression, hoping to find some clue as to Hermione's intentions behind those chocolate eyes which were now locked with her own emerald ones. Students didn't ever ask a teacher to go for drinks unless they desired a more personal relationship. The question was simply if Hermione was seeking friendship beyond what the two had already had, or if Minerva had missed the memo that Hermione was not strictly straight, and the girl had romantic intentions toward her.

Of course, the aging witch had dealt with a few student infatuations over the years, them being the ones infatuated, but not anytime recently. She was hardly what anyone would call attractive any longer, though Minerva liked to think that she was still in very good shape for a woman her age, and more than capable of being...involved with someone. Not that Minerva would get involved with a student, gods no.

On that note, Minerva concluded with some certainty that Hermione Granger was far to sensible to become infatuated with a teacher, especially one as old as she was. Not to mention, there was no evidence to suggest that the young Gryffindor was even sexually interested in other women. Wasn't she with Ronald Weasley? All that said, Minerva imagined that Hermione was merely aware that the school year was coming to a close, and that if she desired a friendship with her professor, writing letters over the summer holiday was a sensible place to start. Logically, expressing a desire for communication beyond the normal student and teacher relationship would best be done in person, prior to the end of term.

And, if Minerva was correct in her assessment, Hermione was certainly the kind of person she'd love to have a true friendship with. The girl was brilliant, and often challenged Minerva to think in ways she had not previously considered. And, if Minerva was wrong, and for some unknown reason the young Gryffindor had developed a crush on her, then sharing a butterbeer with the girl would allow her to discern how bad it was, and the summer break was only days away, giving Hermione plenty of time to 'get over her', after Minerva would, of course, gently let her down.

"That would be lovely, Miss Granger," Minerva replied finally, forcing a smile. Despite her self assurance that this situation, whatever the situation turned out to be, was more than under control, as the elder witch voiced agreement, she suddenly got the distinct impression she had just opened Pandora's Box.

* * *

Minerva stood anxiously, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to roll in for the new school year. Though there would be hundreds of students arriving today, there was only one in particular that she dreaded to see. After meeting for butterbeer on that fateful Saturday afternoon, Minerva had concluded that despite all reason, Hermione Granger was indeed romantically interested in her. If that didn't blow her mind enough, in a moment of pure insanity, Minerva had neglected to 'let her down', gently or otherwise. At the time, she'd justified it by saying that it would be easier on Hermione if Minerva waited till the last day of term to do so. It wouldn't do to stress the poor girl out the week of exams, for Merlin's sake.

Then, Severus Snape had killed Albus. The night after the funeral, Minerva had returned to her quarters to find Hermione waiting for her. Neither had said a word, but Minerva had allowed Hermione to hold her as she cried. Oh, she'd beaten herself up for weeks after that night. The day the students all went home had come and gone quickly, and in the rush, Minerva had forgotten that she still needed to explain to Hermione that they could not and would not engage in any relationship beyond that of a student and teacher.

Too make matters ten times worse, when a letter came for Minerva, from Hermione, a few days later, Minerva had replied. At first, she'd only replied to the bit in the letter regarding the latest Transfiguration journal, but after a few weeks of corresponding, the dratted girl had Minerva pouring out her heart. The fact that the subjects which they discussed were of mutual concern - the war, Harry, Albus, Severus being appointed Headmaster, the Carrows being added to the Hogwarts staff, etc - Minerva always kicked herself minutes after sending each reply on its way...and the moment Hermione's next reply arrived, all concern for the fact that Minerva was essentially leading the girl on vanished into thin air.

As the Transfiguration Professor was lost in thought, the train had arrived. Minerva watched as the students filed off, the older ones heading toward the carriages, and the first years all following the sound of Hagrid's bellowing voice toward the boats. Despite Severus being Headmaster and all else that was topsy turvy this year, first years still arrived at the castle via boat, just like always. Minerva couldn't decide if Severus left that tradition in place simply because he saw no point in creating an argument, which she _would_ have started, or if it was a deliberate smack in the face to her and the rest of the staff at continuing a tradition that Albus has started. Minerva supposed it didn't matter.

"Argus," Minerva said to the old caretaker after she noted that no more students were coming out of the train, "Did Potter, Granger, and Weasley get off the train?"

Argus Filch shrugged. "Don't look like it, does it? Good riddance, I say. Could use a year where I'm not in fear for my life. Trouble, those three are. Always been nothin' but trouble."

Minerva resisted the urge to hex the squib, but could not keep her mouth from forming a rebuttal. "But Argus, they have made your life more interesting. Perhaps I could arrange for three other teenagers to fill their roles for the year, if they are truly not returning. I saw Longbottom getting off the train. I'm sure he would be glad to come up with some form of chaos for you to deal with."

The old caretaker scowled, but said nothing. He turned to go, and Minerva moved to follow him, but not before glancing once more back to the train, in hopes that she'd see Hermione there, smiling and waving as she had for the last five years.

* * *

Two months. Minerva was about to pull her hair out. For the entire summer, right up to the day before term began, Hermione had written her at least three times a week, and now, nothing. A bit of asking around had told Minerva that her three missing Gryffindor students had last been seen at Bill and Fleur Weasley's wedding, which had been crashed by Death Eaters, causing many to flee. Minerva had been certain that Hermione would Owl her within a week or two, once the panic of the attack wore off. However, there had been no word.

Minerva didn't know what bothered her more - that Hermione hadn't made contact, or that she found herself more concerned than she had a right to be. Okay _fine_, they were friends. She was allowed to be concerned, a wee bit anyhow.

Quite suddenly, Minerva was interrupted by a scratching at her door. It was far too late for anyone to be calling, unless it was an emergency. She got up quickly and opened the door, only to nearly be knocked over has an orange ball of fur scurried into her chambers without invitation. Her first instinct was to shoo whatever creature had just barged in on her, but that idea was quickly dismissed when she recognized the intruder.

"Crookshanks!" Minerva cried, leaning over to pick Hermione's familiar up. To her surprise, she found that the half-cat was wearing a collar. In all the time Hermione had owned him, Crookshanks had never worn a collar. The young Gryffindor had explained to her once that Crookshanks simply refused to wear one, despite that Hermione wished he would.

Minerva looked at the collar with interest, wondering what might have changed the creature's opinion of such a mark of possession, and then she got it.

It wasn't a real collar.

Or rather, it was, but had not always been.

Minerva removed the red, leather strap, put Crookshanks down, and uttered a spell which would return a transfigured object to it's original form. A spell she taught first years. It was such a simple, clever way to get a message safely to someone, that only Hermione would have thought of it.

Seconds later, a roll of parchment was laying in Minerva's palm. The older witch quickly unrolled it, and sitting on her couch, she began to read the familiar script.

_Minerva,_

_I spent a month trying to come up with a safe way to get you word that we are okay. Even as I send the letter off with it's messenger, I am not certain if it was wise to do, but I know it'll take him another month to even get to you, by which point you will most likely be worried sick. _

_As of when I'm writing this, we are, like I said, okay. I can't promise we will be when you get this, or that we will be at any point in the future. I'm afraid that I can't promise I'll be able to write again, and I know you wont be so daft as to try and reach me. You know the risks of that. _

_That said, there's something I want to tell you. I wish I'd had the nerve to tell you that day we met for butterbeer, or the night after Albus' funeral, or even in a letter over the summer, when at least I could have had some hope of a reply. The fact is that after so many moments when I could have told you, I realized the night we we forced to go on the run that there's a chance that one or both of us could die before we had the chance to meet again, and I can't stand the thought of you not knowing the truth. _

_I am in love with you. I think you already know that I have more than platonic feelings for you, but I imagine that you've dismissed them as a crush; something sure to pass within the year. I don't blame you for assuming that's all it is, but that's not how it is. The crush you assume this is begin more than three years ago. I don't see it going away anytime in the near future, or ever for that matter. As a teacher, you have taught many students the right way to do things, and I doubt any of them have ever tried to do those things any other way. That's kind of how I feel about loving you. I can't imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, because you taught me what it means to fall in love. I don't think I can love anyone else. _

_I re-read that and it all sounds a bit pathetic, but it's true. I do realize that the chances of you feeling anything for me is slim to none, but if I die in the coming months, at least I die knowing that I at least tried. At least I was brave enough to write three words and send them into the arms of fate. _

_All my love - _

The letter wasn't signed, but Minerva knew it was from Hermione. Her handwriting, her pet, her clever idea... Minerva inhaled... her smell.

If that didn't beat all, Minerva thought to herself. Clearly, she had underestimated Hermione's feelings. Clearly the young woman knew what was at stake by saying what she'd said in that letter. And as a tear fell down the older witch's cheek, she realized that clearly she'd underestimated her own feelings on the matter as well.

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**Sequel or no? Please review! **


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